Unlike the Lapland Bunting, which is found in the salt marshes or on the tundras of the North, this species shows a predilection for the rocky coasts or hills covered with loose boulders and is seldom found in the localities frequented by the former bird. In winter it is a regular migrant to our east coast, and also visits the west, but more sparingly. [Illustration: SNOW BUNTING _Plectrophanes nivalis_ (right) LAPLAND BUNTING _Calcarius lapponiacus_ (left) Both in winter plumage] In cold winters it becomes much more abundant, returning northwards, however, on the first approach of milder weather. In summer the adult male has the back, inner secondaries, two-thirds of each of the primaries, and the six central tail feathers black, the rest of the plumage being white; the female resembles her mate but is rather smaller, the head and neck are streaked with greyish white, and there is less white on the wing. In winter both sexes have broad tawny margins to the feathers of the back, while the head, breast, and flanks are largely suffused with the same colour. The young bird is greyish brown, spotted both above and below with a darker tint of the same colour. Length 6·55 in.; wing 4·4 in. THE STARLING Sturnus vulgaris, Linnæus Except that it commits depredations in the cherry orchards as the fruit ripens, nothing but good can be said of the Starling. Tame, confiding, no mean songster, and an excellent mimic, he is very welcome wherever found. In autumn he congregates in vast flocks, whose numbers reach many thousands, and there must be few people who have not noticed these flocks go through their aerial evolutions, now drawing close together in a compact mass, or spreading out in wedge-shaped formation, rising and falling as though imbued with one mind. These flocks are to a large extent migratory, and in the evening will often collect to roost on reed-beds, which are laid flat with their weight. To enter such a spot quietly just after dusk and then make a noise, will afford one a sensation never to be forgotten, as they rise with a sound like rolling thunder, caused by the clattering of thousands of wings against the reeds, while others farther off, disturbed in turn, will also rise, until the whole flock is on the wing, circling round our head with a subdued roar which increases and diminishes as they approach or retreat. In a few minutes, however, if we remain quiet, they will soon begin to return, making no sound except the rattling together of the reeds as they settle, and in a few minutes all is quiet once more. At daybreak the flock divides into smaller parties which set out to forage in the neighbouring country. In the afternoon, as their hunger is appeased, the scattered flocks begin to collect again, and it is then that we may